Page 90 of The Forsaken
“Quinn, Brett is in prison. He can’t hurt you anymore,” Gabe reasoned as he smiled in understanding. He took Quinn’s hand in his and began to massage it gently to help her relax.
“Yes, he can. Knowing that I put him there will haunt me for the rest of my days.”
“Brett’s actions put him there. Surely you know that.”
“Of course I do, but had I not delved into family history and planned to make it public, things would have never gone that far. We all have secrets, and this was his, and I was about to trumpet it from the rooftops. People have killed for less.”
“You can’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have known that Brett shares your psychic ability.”
“No, I couldn’t have,” Quinn replied sulkily. “But I think Seth blames me for losing his son. If it weren’t for me, Brett would be getting ready to start his freshman year of college, shopping for school supplies, and looking forward to making new friends. Instead, he’s in prison, only about two months into his sentence, with a decade of nothing but fear, resentment, and misery stretching out before him.”
“Seth doesn’t blame you.”
“How would you know?”
“I know because I spoke to him at length while you were in the hospital. He was ashamed, immensely relieved that you were going to be all right, and shocked to have learned that Brett was capable of such cruelty, but not for one second did he blame you or wish you hadn’t come into his life. He loves you, Quinn, and what he fears most is losing both his children.”
“Why must you always be so sensible?” Quinn asked, elbowing Gabe in the ribs. He’d put things into perspective for her, the way he always did, making her feel selfish and irrational for not calling Seth sooner.
“It’s a curse I must live with.”
“Don’t look so sheepish, Dr. Russell.”
“I’ve never actually seen a sheep looking shamefaced. Have you?” Gabe asked, making Quinn laugh when he tried to imitate a mortified-looking sheep.
“No, can’t say that I have. It is a silly expression, isn’t it? You know what else is a silly expression?”
“Tell me.”
“As nervous as a turkey on Thanksgiving. Seth said that once and it made me laugh.”
“Why did you think of it now?”
“Because that’s how I feel about calling him.”
“No matter how the conversation goes, your fate will never parallel that of a Thanksgiving turkey, despite the fact that you’re becoming as plump as one,” he quipped, rubbing her rounded belly affectionately. “Now, pick up that phone and call the poor man.”
Quinn reached for her mobile while Gabe heaved himself off the sofa.
“I’ll give you some privacy, shall I?”
“Thanks.”
Quinn selected Seth’s number from the contacts and pressed the call icon before she had a chance to change her mind. He picked up on the second ring.
“Quinn! How are you, sweetheart? I’m so glad you called.”
“Hi. Sorry it took me so long. How have you been?”
“I’ve been better,” Seth replied, with his usual American forthrightness.
“Is it Brett?” The last thing Quinn wanted to talk about was Brett, but she could hardly pretend that her brother didn’t exist. She was glad that Seth understood and didn’t go into detail.
“Brett’s doing as well as can be expected. It’s my mother. She passed away on the Fourth of July.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t want to upset you. And it’s not as if you would have come for the funeral,” Seth replied. There was no reproach in his voice, just sadness and acceptance of the situation.
